Yesterday was my sixth wedding anniversary. How did I spend it, you ask? Looking at HD TVs. And it was my wife’s idea.
Yeah, she’s pretty flipping sweet.
Our original plan was to head up to Amicolola Falls, Bert’s Pumpkin farm and the BBQ place whose name I cannot remember. At 10:30 it was still 46 degrees, and with Alison still on the tail end of a cold, we eschewed the possible issues with walking uphill in chilly weather. What was our backup plan? Technically we had no backup plan. We get the Sunday paper, and as I started looking through the fliers she kindly told me that she had already done the research. It’s one thing to look at pictures. It’s another to go for the field test.
We started at Best Buy. Best Buy has a good selection and it happens to be across the street. We were accosted by a very persistent Direct TV salesperson. He made a great pitch and kept lowering the rate on our perceived deal. We weren’t biting. We’re probably the worst recipients of the hard sell, as we listen at first but then fade away as the presentation goes into its second quarter-hour. It was the first realization that buying an HDTV is a lot more complex than it looks.
Yeah, you can get the TV with the purty picture, but when you have a standard cable setup and TiVo, there are multiple upgrades to consider. If we get a new TV, we need an upgrade, whether it be from Comcast, Direct TV or some other provider. Our TiVo box would be obsolete, and we love us some TiVo. Our DVD player as well would be out of date. And we were just starting on the items that we might need. We looked through the selections and I paid pretty good attention considering that Sunday football had not yet started. We liked a Samsung 46’’. I didn’t realize there was something called an LED, which is better than a LCD (further down in the alphabet), and oodles better than a plasma.
We left and went to BrandSmart. BrandSmart is a warehouse of everything electrical. The aisles are about 12 inches wide and there are hundreds if not thousands of people shopping. We found the TVs and soon made friends with a salesman. I couldn’t understand what he was saying. After 30 minutes, I started to catch on. The TV is great, and the upgraded cable, DVD, and DVR are givens. What about sound? We saw surround sound options that were nice in that they were only three speakers and you wouldn’t have to install them around the room with cords everywhere, just waiting for a kitty claw to ruin the whole setup. What we liked of the options available was the sound bar. It installs below the TV and enhances the sound. You can’t have HDTV picture with sucky sound, now can you?
Our salesman took us to a computer terminal that would have been state of the art in 1985 and started inputting everything that we’d need. The total cost would almost double the cost for just buying the TV. To connect all of our boxes we’d need HDMI cables. Yes, it’s 2009 and we’re still using cables. They’re just cooler now and cost about $90 a piece. Oh yeah, then there’s power. I get having the surge protector. Don’t they cost maybe$20? Oh, just you wait. We saw “power centers” which are surge protectors on steroids. You can pay up to $200 just in case there’s a power surge like the one in the first scene of the Terminator movie.
We thanked him and moved on. He might have been disappointed had there not been another dozen people just like us with dollar signs in our eyes.
I was fried, and even a protein-rich lunch at Pig and Chik did not help me long term. We went home. Alison spent about six hours on the computer and found all the items our salesperson listed for about $800 cheaper.
Did I mention the awesomeness?
Monday, October 26, 2009
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Marital harmony
How do you compromise in your marriage? I don't mean when you hold the purse while she looks at "one more" store. Um, not that I've ever done that. I mean the mutual decisions you've made that an outsider would view as prudent and considerate, if a bit odd.
I'll use an example from last night. I was watching the second half of the Monday Night Football game. I blogged about that experience a few minutes ago. I focused on my fantasy football team in that post. My "editor" reminded me of what else was going on at the time.
She had spent the past couple of hours trying to get a microphone to work on her laptop to complete some voiceover work. It was not successful. I put the game on mute while she played yoga music. I could say that yoga music is relaxing, but my way of saying it would be "makes me sleepy". I watched the game, not feeling at all that I was missing any special insight by the announcers, as she did Hold the Baby and Child's Pose.
The game ended and she was relaxed. I, on the other hand, needed a bit of Eastern influence to get over my Western sports angst.
I'll use an example from last night. I was watching the second half of the Monday Night Football game. I blogged about that experience a few minutes ago. I focused on my fantasy football team in that post. My "editor" reminded me of what else was going on at the time.
She had spent the past couple of hours trying to get a microphone to work on her laptop to complete some voiceover work. It was not successful. I put the game on mute while she played yoga music. I could say that yoga music is relaxing, but my way of saying it would be "makes me sleepy". I watched the game, not feeling at all that I was missing any special insight by the announcers, as she did Hold the Baby and Child's Pose.
The game ended and she was relaxed. I, on the other hand, needed a bit of Eastern influence to get over my Western sports angst.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
A Death in the Family
Let me preface this by saying that there has been no death in my family. I had to make that clear before proceeding.
Is your pet considered part of your family? You may never ponder this question during your pet’s life, but you are sure to think of it when the pet dies. And “the pet” isn’t a genderless entity; it’s a he or she.
Two friends lost a pet over the past week. It made me think about the role that pets play in our lives. We sometimes give human qualities to our pets. In our house there’s a running dialog of made-up cat commentary. We say what we assume they would say if they had the capacity to speak. They are generally gems like “I don’t care if my dish is full; it’s time to feed me” and “shut up and pet me.” The bottom line is that they become people.
We’re going to lose Sting and we’re going to lose Chewie. Domesticated cats who don’t venture outside can live 15-20 years. That’s a lot of naps. It only seems like a long time until it’s over. It’s not the purr that’s loud; it’s the silence.
A few years ago we literally had our Sting on a feeding tube to keep him alive. He had a liver issue that we couldn’t diagnose for months. He spent lots of time at the vet’s. We spent enough money to buy a used car to keep him going. How much would we have spent? How much do we have?
Pets aren’t people. They’re often better than people. We assign them emotions like jealousy, pettiness, and anger. In truth, they love unconditionally. It would be nice if the food dish were filled on time twice a day and that the litter box emptied regularly and that the screened-in porch be open all the time. None of those things are necessary. Nothing seems more pure than the purr.
They have distinct personalities. Sting’s a little more gruff and will give you “the claw” if you pet him the wrong way, and sometimes even the right way. He tries to hide under the bed when it’s time for his swaddle aka his daily medication. He’s never met a stranger. Chewie hides when people come over. He likes to eat plastic and knock things off shelves, especially after getting “the boot” from the bedroom. He is an alarm clock, standing in my face and meowing loudly when it’s time to wake up. And he purrs nearly constantly. He purrs when we pet Sting. He purrs when we put sheets on the bed. He even purred once when a vet gave him a shot.
So farewell Mocha and good bye Woody. Mocha was a dog and Woody was a cat, but in the owner’s eyes there is no difference. Both lived into their teens and were treated well. They will be missed.
That’s what happens when you’re family.
Is your pet considered part of your family? You may never ponder this question during your pet’s life, but you are sure to think of it when the pet dies. And “the pet” isn’t a genderless entity; it’s a he or she.
Two friends lost a pet over the past week. It made me think about the role that pets play in our lives. We sometimes give human qualities to our pets. In our house there’s a running dialog of made-up cat commentary. We say what we assume they would say if they had the capacity to speak. They are generally gems like “I don’t care if my dish is full; it’s time to feed me” and “shut up and pet me.” The bottom line is that they become people.
We’re going to lose Sting and we’re going to lose Chewie. Domesticated cats who don’t venture outside can live 15-20 years. That’s a lot of naps. It only seems like a long time until it’s over. It’s not the purr that’s loud; it’s the silence.
A few years ago we literally had our Sting on a feeding tube to keep him alive. He had a liver issue that we couldn’t diagnose for months. He spent lots of time at the vet’s. We spent enough money to buy a used car to keep him going. How much would we have spent? How much do we have?
Pets aren’t people. They’re often better than people. We assign them emotions like jealousy, pettiness, and anger. In truth, they love unconditionally. It would be nice if the food dish were filled on time twice a day and that the litter box emptied regularly and that the screened-in porch be open all the time. None of those things are necessary. Nothing seems more pure than the purr.
They have distinct personalities. Sting’s a little more gruff and will give you “the claw” if you pet him the wrong way, and sometimes even the right way. He tries to hide under the bed when it’s time for his swaddle aka his daily medication. He’s never met a stranger. Chewie hides when people come over. He likes to eat plastic and knock things off shelves, especially after getting “the boot” from the bedroom. He is an alarm clock, standing in my face and meowing loudly when it’s time to wake up. And he purrs nearly constantly. He purrs when we pet Sting. He purrs when we put sheets on the bed. He even purred once when a vet gave him a shot.
So farewell Mocha and good bye Woody. Mocha was a dog and Woody was a cat, but in the owner’s eyes there is no difference. Both lived into their teens and were treated well. They will be missed.
That’s what happens when you’re family.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Spelling Error
It's an awesome story that is quite embarrassing at the same time. A long time ago in a pizza joint, a friend gave me a good blog title. I used the title and started the blog. Problem was, I created a name that's not easy to spell. Because of this, the title of my blog was "zachrilege" and the link was http://zachrilige.blogspot.com. Common error, right? Well, this site will be the home of all future zachrilege-type blogs. I will link back to the misspelled site for all old blogs.
Go to old zachrilege blogs.
Go to old zachrilege blogs.
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